On tour
by xXSakura-Hime-SamaXx
Summary: (UchihaSaku/MadaSaku Modern AU) When the all Uchiha band Sharingan hit it big, who else would they want to have travel with them but their favourite little pinkette. She'd caught their hearts in her little hands, and they didn't want her to ever let go. (Saku/Mada-Ita-Shi-Obi-Izu)


As the closing cords of the guitar came to an end, the crowd went wild, screams and chanting filling the large area as the group waved their goodbyes, completely ignoring the screams of 'encore' that followed them

They didn't have time for that today.

Because _she_ was visiting them.

Their one and only little pinkette.

She'd promised earlier that week.

Obito had been the first to meet her years ago, having fallen from the stage and injured himself, breaking his arm in the process. He'd been rushed to the hospital with them trailing behind, cutting the concert short and apologising to the vast number of people.

They'd walked into his hospital room expecting to hear him whining and grumbling like usual, only to stop short at the sight before them, Shisui's muttered curse alerting the woman to their presence.

She'd been finishing up the cast, Obito's face bright red as she smiled at him and his stammering, but had stopped short when they entered.

Her white coat had told them she was a doctor.

But everything else about her screamed differently.

Pink hair that made Itachi faintly remember his childhood and his brother's small group of friends.

Long legs clad in a knee length skirt that had Madara smirking like a fool, his eyes straining to remain on her curious face.

And bright green eyes that seemed to stare straight into Izuna's soul.

She'd just looked at them briefly before turning back to her work, completely zoning them out as she continued to speak quietly with Obito, who'd begun scowling at them over her shoulder.

She hadn't even given them a second look.

No screaming.

No fangirling.

No worshipping the ground they walked on.

She'd just…ignored them until she'd finished.

And when she had…she'd turned and spoke to them all in the most heavenly voice they'd ever heard, her soft looking pink lips parting slightly as she looked at them all in turn.

"It's not nice to barge into a room like that, especially when someone is getting medical attention."

And then she'd walked out, leaving the stunned men standing in silence until Madara opened his mouth.

"Dibs."

* * *

Back to the present, the group of men sat eagerly in their hotel room, eyeing the door with impatience.

Well, some of them were.

The others were just calmly waiting for the tell-tale knock that would alert them to the pinkette's arrival.

It's be any minute now.

Any minute.

Obito and Izuna were both glaring at each other, sitting as close to the door as they could, having tried to muscle each other out of the way unsuccessfully earlier.

Obito's ribs were probably bruised, and Izuna's hand would be aching for the next day or two.

But it was worth it, no matter how irritated Itachi looked from his seat at the large desk.

No doubt they'd be hearing about how 'unbecoming' and 'immature' their behaviour was later on.

Madara sighed loudly from his spot on the couch, his body sprawled out and relaxed as he kept glancing from his phone, to the TV, to the door, one of his legs bouncing slightly as he did so.

And poor Shisui was left watching his family make fools of themselves as a soft knock sounded at the door, his exasperated form slipping past the now wrestling Obito and Izuna to let the poor woman in.

He really did like her.

He just didn't want her to have to put up with this every time she came to visit.

"Sakura, it's nice to see you again. Please, come in." The messy haired man said as he pulled the hard wooden door open, letting the slightly frazzled looking woman into the apartment, Izuna and Obito instantly righting themselves as she looked at them curiously.

"Thank you Shisui, it's nice to see you again too. Izuna, Obito, what was that about?" She questioned softly as she handed the eager Obito her coat, missing the taunt he sent to Izuna who flipped him off behind her back whilst giving her a hug.

"It was nothing Sakura-chan, just Obito being an idiot again. Nothing different than usual." The long haired man said as he released her with a blush, her grin and wink telling him that she would give him the benefit of the doubt as Obito cried out in outrage, protesting loudly as Itachi gave her a polite nod.

Madara though, topped them all by leaning over the back of the couch and pulling the short girl back and into his lap, her surprised shriek filling the room as they all glowered at him.

He just smirked at them all and turned to the fuming woman in his lap, pecking her on the cheek and hugging her tightly.

"I missed you Sakura-chan~" He cooed as Itachi stood and made his way over, slapping the man on the back of the head and helping the woman to stand.

"Madara, I see you're the same as ever." She bluntly stated as she shook her head in exasperation.

"You know it Cherry. Sooooo….."

"So?" she questioned as they all seemed to perk up and look at her in expectation, their red and black eyes gleaming in the lighting, hope and hesitation filling their gazes.

"_Sooo_…" Obito continued, leaning on the back of the couch and giving her his famous puppy dog eyes, Izuna joining him almost immediately. "Have you decided yet? Are you going to be our _private_ doctor and come on tour with us?"

The pinkette let out a tired sigh and looked at the Uchiha filling the room, one of her hands coming up to pinch the bridge of her nose as she looked up at the roof.

They damn well knew that she wouldn't say no.

She wouldn't leave the well-being of her friends in someone else's hands.

Sneaky bastards.

"Speaking of our tour," Madara chimed in from his seat, still nursing his stinging head. "What did you thing of our new song? I know it's nowhere near as good as 'Green eyed girl', but it's still something."

"It was_ fine_ Madara, you don't need to keep asking me this every time I come over. You _know_ I like your music."


End file.
